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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538903">I'd Rather Keep Dreaming</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkcoochieboard/pseuds/sharkcoochieboard'>sharkcoochieboard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, DNF, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, No Smut, Slow Burn, Swearing, Sweet, but not tooo much internalized homophobia, dream - Freeform, dreamnotfound, george is sensitive lol, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:03:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538903</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkcoochieboard/pseuds/sharkcoochieboard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, George was cute, but it wasn't like Dream was gay. Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, he just wasn't. Right?</p><p>With the coronavirus gone, and Dream's need to find the perfect apology for a stupid argument, he decides to finally go to the UK and meet his best friend. However, feelings are harder to hide when you aren't behind a screen... and their friendship reaches a tipping point when Dream finds a photo of George and his ex-boyfriend, and they open a bottle of rum.</p><p> </p><p>Slight angst, a little internalized homophobia, but nothing too bad.<br/>I DO NOT SHIP THEM IRL. This is FICTIONAL! They have both stated that they are **straight** and have no interest in dating one another, and if either of them ever says that they are uncomfortable with fanfiction I will take this down immediately. Thanks!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>349</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Best Friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Get away from me!" George shouted through his headset. His shout was nearly a scream as he quickly clicked into a boat, struggling to outrun Dream. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh George..." Dream chuckled, pursuing his character with ease. His hands pressed his keyboard mechanically, he didn't even have to think about his actions. His keyboard and mouse were extensions of his arms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George's heart beat a little faster.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Half a heart! Half a heart!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You're so bad!" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George was fully screaming now, and Dream let out a wheeze as he landed the final blow with his diamond axe. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>GeorgeNotFound was slain by Dream. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"GG, dude, GG," Dream said through his headset. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, whatevuh." George logged out of the world and reloaded into the Dream SMP.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh come on, don't be a crybaby. You were almost at the stronghold! You'll get it next time." Dream laughed again, rolling his eyes at his best friend. George could be a sore loser, but he never took anything too seriously. Personally, Dream thought his stubbornness was hilarious. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I will win next time, actually. Because I'm better than Minecraft than you are." George sassed him through the headset. "Join the SMP. Wanna go live?" He asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You think you're better than me, Georgie-" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George stifled a giggle at the nickname. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"-and I'm pretty tired. It's like 3 am here, I'm gonna edit and go to sleep, I think." Dream said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Alright, goodnight dream."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Night, George." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dream logged out of Minecraft and closed Teamspeak. He rubbed his eyes as he made his way towards the unmade bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> I should edit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'll just lay down for a minute and then edit on my laptop.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He laid on his bed and pulled out his phone to tweet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>'New video tomorrow :)' He tweeted. On his second account, he posted a clip he knew the fans would like, of George mistaking his enchanted iron armor for diamond and freaking out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The replies, of course, flooded in instantly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>@ georgewasstaken replied: 'Colorblind gogy!!'</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>@ sapnapsmum replied: 'noooo poor gogy'</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream scrolled through the replies, absentmindedly liking one every now and again. One in particular caught his eye. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>@ badboymuffinz replied: 'hi dream! can you please look at this fanart i made? it would mean a lot! luv u!'</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dream clicked open the image. It was a drawing of him giving a rose to George, who was wearing what he assumed were the enchroma glasses, with a speech bubble above his head saying <em>'you can see red now.'</em>  He smiled. Cute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered why the fans were so obsessed with "DreamNotFound". Sure, they flirted sometimes as a joke, but it wasn't like that. It's not like it was abnormal for guys to joke around with their cute friends. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well-not cute like that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> He caught himself. Sure, George was cute, but it wasn't like Dream was gay. Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, he just wasn't. He didn't mind the fanart, though, as long as it wasn't creepy. He had seen a few creepy things on Wattpad, but other than that it never made him uncomfortable. George was just his friend. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>closest</span>
  </em>
  <span> friend for the past four years. In a completely platonic way, he loved his British friend with his whole heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, George was more than his friend. George was his best friend. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus, I'm such a softie, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt his eyes droop as he continued to scroll through Twitter, and eventually, the phone fell out of his hand as Patches curled up next to him on his pillow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>                                                                                  ~~*~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Night, George." Dream said through the headset.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George logged back out of the SMP. He didn't really feel like going live if Dream wasn't going to be there. It was only 8 am, and he had been up since 5 recording the video. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God, my sleep schedule is fucked, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself. It was difficult to time things right when your friends lived across the world, the time zones messed with all of their sleep schedules. He stood up from his computer and went to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. Dream and Sapnap would be asleep for a while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wished they could meet up in real life. Sure, he loved spending time with them online, but TeamSpeak is no substitute for really spending time with someone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Although, the thought of Dream visiting also made George nervous. He was always nervous about Dream accidentally meeting his old friends from university. And he certainly didn't want him to meet his ex-boyfriend. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George felt his mood drop. He didn't know why he was so nervous to tell Dream, or Sapnap, or any other of his online friends. He knew they would support him, but it just felt too...personal. George was not a sappy person, and he knew</span>
  <em>
    <span> that</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be a dramatic conversation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn't help that his ex-boyfriend also happened to be a tall floppy-haired blonde with a slightly crooked smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You can't choose your type, I guess, </span>
  </em>
  <span>George thought, brushing away his feelings.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He looked down at the pan as he pulled it out of the oven.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I burnt the bloody sausage.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he bit down on the surprisingly delicious meal, he decided to make plans for the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I guess I ought to hang out with someone IRL</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We are allowed to leave the house now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It had been a strange adjustment when the lockdown was finally lifted; George had become all-too comfortable sitting in his apartment all day. It was cozy, and it was safe, but it was also </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He scrolled through his texts and saw one from Rachel, his friend from university. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Rachel</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>——————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey George, I miss you! Did ya let all that </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>fame get to your head? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>—————-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George smiled. Rachel was one of his best friends back at uni. They had met in a computer science class his first year, and she had helped him get over his breakup nearly two years later. He felt bad, he didn't reply nearly enough to her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>—————-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Rachel! I'm sorry, we haven't spoken in forever. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lunch today? Want to head to the old Nando's?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sent the text and got a quick reply. With her affirmation, he got dressed and decided to edit until it was time to leave for their lunch. He sat down in front of his computer to get started, but got distracted scrolling through Twitter and watching random videos. At around 11 am, he got a notification from discord. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A voice call from Dream. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"That was only what—3, 4 hours of sleep?" He laughed as he answered the call.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't need that much sleep," Dream spoke, his voice groggy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You sound like you're still asleep, actually," George replied, shaking his head although Dream couldn't see it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh come on, my sleepy voice is hot." He chuckled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George blushed, glad that the camera wasn’t on him. "No it isn't...you wish it was." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I bet you like it." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Shut up, Dream," George said it in a joking way, but he was getting flustered. He knew that Dream liked to joke and flirt with him, and although it was a funny bit when they were filming, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>made him blush when they weren't recording. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knew it was just a joke, but that didn't mean he didn't get butterflies in his stomach when Dream spoke like that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Ooh angry gogy," Dream cooed through the Discord call. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Is there a reason you’ve called me?" George responded. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Wanna edit last night's video together?" He asked. His tone of voice gained more energy as he spoke the words.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Actually I..." George checked the time. 11:32 am. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I have to get going soon, sorry mate. Maybe later today?" He said. It was almost time to head to lunch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, yeah that's fine. Where you headed?" Dream honestly sounded a little disappointed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Lunch with a friend from uni," George responded absentmindedly as he wrote a confirmation text to Rachel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Is it a date?" Dream asked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh ye—uh no, not really." George stumbled over the words, not paying that much attention to Dream as he typed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, uhm, cool." Dream's voice dropped slightly, and that caught George's attention.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why is he being weird?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Twinge of Jealousy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Dream, you're my best friend. I know when you're being weird." </p><p>I think you're imagining things..."</p><p>"Are you jealous that I went on a so-called date?" </p><p>Yes.</p><p>Dream gets jealous of George's date, and isn't sure why.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Dream knew he was being weird. </p><p> </p><p>He didn't know why he felt weird about George going on a date, he just did. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, uhm, cool," was all he could muster up to say. Maybe he didn't want George to get his heart broken, or maybe he was just jealous because he wanted to spend time with him right now. In fact, he wanted to spend almost all of his time with George. That's what best friends did right?</p><p> </p><p>"Is something wrong, Dream?" He heard George's voice through his headset. He sounded a little concerned. </p><p> </p><p>For some reason, Dream felt his cheeks grow hot. He was embarrassed to be acting this way, and his embarrassment began to manifest as anger. </p><p> </p><p>"No uh, I'm just tired still I guess. Let me know when you get home and uh, have fun." </p><p>He clicked off the call before George could respond.</p><p> </p><p>  </p><p><em>What's wrong with me?</em> He questioned himself. He slammed his headset onto his desk and stood aggressively from his chair, heading downstairs to get a drink of water. He brought it back up to his desk and called Nick.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, dude!" He answered the call excitedly. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Nick. I'm pissed off at George and I can't tell why. I don't even know why I called you about it, I just wanted to vent, I guess." </p><p> </p><p>"What did dear old Gogy do?" Sapnap imitated George's accent poorly. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't even know. He's going on a date with thi--"</p><p> </p><p>"George on a date? That's new," he giggled. </p><p> </p><p>Dream scoffed, "yeah it is."</p><p> </p><p>"With a girl?" </p><p> </p><p>Dream furrowed his brows. "Well, yeah with a girl. He's not...well I mean he's never said he's gay or anything." </p><p> </p><p>He heard Nick start to speak, then hesitate before speaking again, </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, you're right." </p><p> </p><p>"Why? Has he told you differently?" </p><p> </p><p>"No, why do you care?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't"</p><p> </p><p>"Are you sure you don't?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm fucking sure, Nick." </p><p> </p><p>"Okay, man." </p><p> </p><p>Dream leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. That same embarrassed and angry feeling started to rise in his chest and his throat again. He hated the feeling. </p><p> </p><p>"Well, anyway, what pissed you off about him going on a date?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know, just forget it, dude." Dream responded. "Wanna stream? Practice some parkour?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sure." </p><p> </p><p>He decided to stop thinking about George for now and instead focused on having a productive stream with Sapnap. It was going well, the dono's were being normal and funny, although he got tired of telling people what colors to paint their nails. It was going well until he glanced at the chat. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>\[]sarahhwastaken: gogy in chat??</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>\[] dreamn0tfound: George! george! do ur shoes need shining?</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>"Georgie is here, huh? How was your date?" Sapnap said, reading Dream's chat. </p><p> </p><p>The fans went crazy over that. Dream read an explosion of "what about the homie's" and "why not with Dream?'s" and felt his face grow hot again. He was glad he didn't have a face cam, to hide emotions like this from his viewers. </p><p> </p><p>"Alright guys, I think I'm gonna end the stream here, so...yeah. I love you<em> all</em>. Thank you guys so much for 2 million on Twitch. I'll probably do some speedruns this week too, and... let's raid...Punz. Alright, bye guys!" </p><p> </p><p>He clicked off the stream, without bothering to explain to Sapnap. </p><p> </p><p>"What the honk? That was fast, man."</p><p> </p><p>George joined the TeamSpeak. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey g--"</p><p> </p><p>Dream left the call. He didn't feel like talking to George right now. He sat at his chair, staring at the wall. He didn't really want to hear about his lunch with whatever girl it was. He didn't want to think about the fact that George probably dressed up in a big coat, with gloves to keep his delicate hands warm. Maybe he had even given the girl his coat if she forgot hers. </p><p> </p><p>He probably smiled that stupidly large smile and giggled at her stupid jokes. Maybe he even kissed her. </p><p>That thought really set him off.</p><p> </p><p>He looked back at his PC, where he saw multiple notifications from George, who was trying to contact him. Then, his phone started buzzing in his hand. George was calling him on his phone. He sighed and ignored the calls a little longer before relenting and picking up his headset. </p><p> </p><p>"Yo."</p><p> </p><p>"Are you ignoring me, Dream?"</p><p> </p><p>Clay hesitated. </p><p> </p><p>"No." </p><p> </p><p>"Why are you being so weird?" </p><p> </p><p>"I'm not." </p><p> </p><p>"Dream, you're my best friend. I know when you're being weird." </p><p> </p><p>"I think you're imagining things..."</p><p> </p><p>"Are you jealous that I went on a so-called <em>date</em>?" </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p><p>~~~~~*~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>George decided to quit dancing around the subject and just ask him honestly. He had no idea why Dream would be angry at him otherwise. It was a risky question, but he didn't know how else to say it. </p><p> </p><p>"Why would I be jealous?" He heard a snicker from the other boy. </p><p> </p><p>"You tell me, Clay." </p><p> </p><p>That one was a mistake. George knew it was a mistake the second the words escaped his lips. </p><p> </p><p>"Shut up, George. You're making a huge deal out of nothing. It's annoying as shit. I'm not jealous that you went on a date." </p><p> </p><p>Annoying as shit. <em>Ouch.</em> </p><p> </p><p>"Besides, even if I <em>was</em> jealous, it's just because I wanted to edit, not because I <em>like</em> you or anything. I know <em>you're</em> a little fruity, but I'm not gay."</p><p> </p><p><em>Double ouch.</em> </p><p>"I'm not <em>fruity</em>." He spat the sentence out. </p><p>"George, I'm sorry, I didn't me--"</p><p> </p><p>The Brit clicked off the call without saying goodbye, feeling his eyes well up with tears.</p><p> </p><p>George hated to admit that he was sensitive. He had a hard time telling people how he felt, whether it was telling friends that he missed them, or explaining his emotions when he was upset. If the world were a library, he'd prefer that no one ever pick up his book, only admire the cover. George's go-to method for resolving conflict was to bottle negative feelings up and pretend they weren't there. </p><p> </p><p>But he was sensitive nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fruity. </em>
</p><p>Was Dream mad that he went on a date with a girl, or was he mad because he suspected that George was gay? Why would he be mad at George for being gay? He was openly supportive of the LGBT+ community, and he had never shown any signs of feeling otherwise. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe George was reading too deep into things. </p><p> </p><p>Either way, he crawled into his bed to cry and eventually drifted off into an uncomfortable afternoon slumber.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll either upload chapter 3 tonight or tomorrow :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Three Dreams and an Apology</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The apprehensive look on the blonde’s face vanished instantly, and before the sheepish “hi” had even fully exited his mouth, it was replaced by a wheezing laugh. </p><p>“Yes! It is real! I thought--I thought I would make up for my asshole-ness with the ultimate gift. But, they are refundable if you don’t--if you can’t--I don’t have t--”</p><p>Midday naps and a well-deserved apology.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dream thought to himself as he heard the click of George’s sudden hangup. Unlike George, Clay wore his emotions on his sleeve, painting them neon green so everyone could notice them as he went about his day. There was no need to pretend he wasn’t extremely upset. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s voice had been shaky right before he hung up. He was probably crying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought of George crying brought tears to his eyes, and he shamelessly let them fall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You really fucked up, Clay, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he spoke to himself harshly. They joked around about being gay all the time, but when the stream was off and they closed Twitter for the day, George seemed to dance a little more nervously around the subject. Dream knew that it hurt his feelings when fans said that he was “sus”, or “a twink” or </span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fruity”. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Dream had called him just that. It’s not that George was homophobic,</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think he is anyways. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The thought crept into his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George had always seemed supportive of the gay community and had never said he was uncomfortable with the jokes that they shared, or the shipping from their fans. There was just always something a little bit off about him when someone outright called him gay. Dream wondered if he was just insecure about his small frame and his delicate features. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t necessarily feminine, but he sure was pretty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream lowered his face down into his palm the second that the thought entered his brain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> What the hell is wrong with me? Not pretty like </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>that.</em>
  </b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm not gay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let himself cry for a few minutes more, pondering how he was going to ask for George’s forgiveness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sent a text and then regretted it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An hour later, he laid down in his messy bed, allowing the warm sun from his window to fall on his face. He opened Spotify, and started playing the saddest songs he had on his playlist. One of his biggest flaws and he would admit it openly, was the almost masochistic way that he would indulge his sadness. When he was upset, he almost enjoyed sinking into the feeling fully, letting it wrap around him like a blanket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A little after 12 pm he sent another text. Then he fell asleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In his dream, he was sitting in a small cafe, sipping hot chocolate. His gaze was focused on the cars passing by on the damp street, Drops of rain hit the window, and he shuddered slightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s freezing cold,” he mumbled out loud to himself, tightening his grip around the warm cup of cocoa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard a silvery giggle from the other side of where he sat staring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course it’s cold, idiot. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>London </span>
  </em>
  <span>in </span>
  <em>
    <span>January.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream turned his head instantly and found that George was sitting right next to him. The instant that their eyes met, the cold feeling was replaced with a warm tingle in Dream’s limbs. It was like the smaller brunette had stoked a fire inside his ribcage, tearing him from the grip of the outside weather. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did you do that?” He asked with an incredulous stare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” George furrowed his brows in confusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream’s eyes snapped open. He was back in his sunny room. The momentary post-nap confusion wracked his senses, but he soon remembered where he was, and what had happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What had happened was that his nap had given him an idea for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect </span>
  </em>
  <span>apology. He sat down at his computer and searched the steps needed to get through British customs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"George!" Dream called out to him as he approached the entrance to the Pizza Hut where he and Wilbur sat. George almost stopped in his tracks. Even sitting, he could tell that Dream was tall. 6'3" seemed even taller in person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dream! You’re here!" He laughed and pulled down his mask as the blonde approached. Dream's eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled, his mask already pulled down. His smile was slightly crooked, and he looked at George gently before pulling him into a tight hug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream was warm, and his large arms enrobed George with a loving touch. George leaned into the taller man. He was safe. Goosebumps appeared on his neck when he heard Dream whisper in his ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "It's not every day you meet your best friend, is it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream. His best friend. Wilbur faded into the background. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before George could even process what was happening, Dream tilted his chin up with a caress of his hand and brought his lips down to meet his. It was soft, nervous, but George’s heart set on fire instantly. He was finally where he was meant to be, in Dream’s arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George woke up with a groan. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d rather keep dreaming, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. The vlog dream. He had been having that dream regularly since they had done the original prank on their fans. Much like them, he was disappointed that it hadn’t been real. The dream always felt real though. It was his favorite dream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, my second favorite dream,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. The argument weighed heavily on his mind. With a glance out the window, he saw that it had grown dark outside. Unfortunately, he was going to have to deal with the inevitable. There was no point in dragging out the argument. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pawed around his bed, finding his phone. The bright screen hit his face. 5:57 pm. He had four missed texts from Dream and hesitantly opened them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Dream</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I didn’t mean it like that, if I actually </span>
</p><p>
  <span>thought you were gay i wouldnt say smth like that</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------sent 2:23pm</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Im sorry george, i really am. I dont know why i got</span>
</p><p>
  <span>so upset</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------sent: 3:10pm</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>does this make up for it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------sent: 4:36pm</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Attached, there was an image. George clicked it open, and saw Dream’s dumb smile, holding a printed piece of paper next to his face. He looked so cute with that crooked smile, the freckles dusted lightly across his cheeks. George ignored the piece of paper that he was holding up for a minute, letting his heart grow softer just by looking at the younger male’s face. They had facetimed enough for George to notice something was off. Although he had a grin on his face, and his eyes were practically closed, he could tell that Dream had been crying. His eyes were swollen, and his nose was red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>MCO to LCY, 2/10/21</b>
</p><p>
  <b>---2:00am EST Business Class</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>LCY to MCO 2/20/21</b>
</p><p>
  <b>---1:00pm BST Business Class</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A flight ticket. To London. For </span>
  <em>
    <span>next week. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Excitement immediately overtook any negative emotions George was feeling. He pressed facetime without a second thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Almost too quickly, Dream answered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>DREAM</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Is that real? Are you fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>joking</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He nearly screamed, a wide smile spreading across his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The apprehensive look on the blonde’s face vanished instantly, and before the sheepish “hi” had even fully exited his mouth, it was replaced by a wheezing laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! It is real! I thought--I thought I would make up for my asshole-ness with the <em>ultimate</em> gift. But, they are refundable if you don’t--if you can’t--I don’t have t--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> back out now,</span>
  <em>
    <span> pissbaby.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” George cut him off. Dream laughed again on the other side of the phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So are we good then, George?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dream.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>okay hehe i like writing a super soft dramatic dream, in case you couldn't notice. Also, he was listening to "this is me trying" by Taylor Swift on his spotify :D </p><p>ill try to write the next chapter this weekend.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Pillows and Phone Calls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They both giggled, the anxiety fading from both sides of the phone as their excitement set in. It was really, finally happening. George opened his mouth to express his exhilaration, but before he could speak, the Floridian’s voice dropped again. </p><p>“I’m...I’m nervous, George.”</p><p>In which Dream suffers from a little pre-George anxiety.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next few days of Dream’s life hardly mattered. In between meetings with Youtube and merch representatives, he could feel his anxiety growing at the thought of his flight to England. He was tall and strong, but he was by no means an adrenaline junkie. He hated rollercoasters with a passion and certainly didn’t enjoy flights. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The more he thought about it, the more he dreaded the idea of being in the air for 10 hours straight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna be fine, bro.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I know, it’s just...I don’t know, shit like this freaks me out sometimes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re doing it for a reason! You get to finally meet George,” Sapnap’s voice pitched slightly at the end of his sentence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream huffed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again, I’m really sorry you couldn’t make it, Nick. Maybe if George comes out here you can fly to Florida.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dream could hear Sapnap’s smirk through his headset, “not your fault passports are so damn hard to get. Anyways, I gotta go, when is your flight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s at one tomorrow morning. I think I’m gonna try to sleep pretty soon.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They said their goodbyes, and Dream forced himself to rest for a few hours before his alarm went off at 11:30. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes dripped closed lazily and before long, he found himself in a cold, rainy cafe, hands wrapped tightly around a mug of cocoa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course it’s cold, idiot. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>London </span>
  </em>
  <span>in </span>
  <em>
    <span>January.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream turned his head and found that George was sitting next to him, the same as he had been every night since their argument. The instant that their eyes met, the cold feeling was replaced with the now-familiar warmth in Dream’s limbs. The fire was stoked, and the coals were burning brightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did you do that?” He asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” George furrowed his brows in confusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the first time, Dream was able to answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did you...m-make me feel warm?” He stuttered over the words, distracted by the playful look in the smaller man’s eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really are an idiot, aren’t you Clay?” George shook his head, and before Dream could respond, George’s hand reached up and tangled itself gently in his hair, pulling him down as he leaned in, whispering something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream couldn’t decipher what George was saying, he was too focused on his own heart racing. The warmth in George’s eyes became unbearably hot, scorching his cheeks as his face was pulled tenderly towards his friend’s. George’s breath was warm, and it smelled like peppermint. The taller man wondered if his lips would be soft, or if--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Beep beep. Beep beep.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, just let me keep dreaming.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream ripped himself from the comfort of his pillows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” He expressed his confusion to the empty room. Though it had been a dream, there was a lingering feeling in his chest and underneath his grey sweats. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was that--why--what the hell? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he could address the situation fully, the alarm on his phone replaced itself with the hum of a phone call. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hey.” He answered hesitantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you awake, Mr. Dream?” George strained to make himself sound excited. He <em>was</em> excited, but he was also <em>very</em> apprehensive. One million things could go wrong, were bound to go wrong, when Dream arrived. Would it be different in person? Would their dynamic change forever?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Will he find out how I feel? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thoughts had been whirring in George’s head ever since Dream had sent that picture of himself, proudly holding up the printed plane ticket. They had agreed that Dream would stay in George’s apartment, sleeping on the couch downstairs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If the couch is too small, he can sleep in my bed, and I’ll take the couch, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he concluded to himself, chastising the way his brain seemed to dawdle on the idea of Dream sleeping in his bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhm, yeah I am, haha. I’m gonna get ready and head to the airport now. My uh, my mom already came by to pick up Patches, so I don’t need to worry about her. And I’m all set so, so, so it should--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” George could tell from the stuttered rambling that Dream was off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing is wrong! It’s just...It’s not every day you meet your best friend, is it?” He chuckled nervously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's not every day you meet your best friend. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s unconscious paradise emerged from its hidden corner as Dream spoke those words out loud. In real life, not in his second-favorite dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream tilted his chin up with a caress of his hand and brought his lips down to meet the younger man’s. Gentle, loving, passionate.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George squeaked beside himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“George? Are you okay?” Dream tittered through the speaker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, my uh, my cat jumped on my bed and scared me. You’re right, it isn’t every day. Let me know when you take off, alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And when you land.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, George.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And text me during the flight, too, actually.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“George!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both giggled, the anxiety fading from both sides of the phone as their excitement set in. It was really, finally happening. George opened his mouth to express his exhilaration, but before he could speak, the Floridian’s voice dropped again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m...I’m nervous, George.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s heart fluttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” he asked almost too quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the flight.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s heart returned to normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It won’t be too bad,” he tried to reassure the younger man, “and you can text me, and Nick, and your mum the entire time. You’ll probably fall asleep, even.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream let out a small sigh. “You’re right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The call fell silent, but it was a comfortable silence, the one that usually spent time with them on their daily call. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess I better get going then,” Dream said, finally.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, see you soon, Dream.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love you, man.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>click.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the second time that day, George’s heart fluttered, and his cheeks turned a glowing pink.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>nervous boys go brrr</p><p>this might be longer than 10 chapters, it's burning a little slower than I had originally intended. Either way, thanks to everyone who has already left comments and kudos, it means a lot!</p><p> </p><p>ill try to update tomorrow:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He sat for a while, staring absentmindedly at nothing and sinking deep into his own thoughts , before a shadow suddenly fell across his face, and a hesitant voice spoke from right beside him. </p><p>“Dream?” </p><p>The plane lands, and two best friends finally meet in person.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>To Dream’s relief, he did fall asleep quickly. After sending a few anxiety-ridden texts to his mother, Sapnap and George, he found that his eyelids began to close despite his fears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turbulence startled him awake, and the cold panic seeped back into his veins. He picked up his phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>2 hours left.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>George</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>i fucking hate turbulence</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------read 3:36 am</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’re almost here, Dream. Two more hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------sent: 3:38am</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>are you tracking my flight?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------read 3:39 am</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------sent: 3:40am</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled.<em> Of course.</em> Two more hours. In two hours, he would finally see his best friend in person. The anxiety he felt was gradually replaced with excitement, and he opened the window to let the bright sunlight in. His phone was still running on East Coast time, and he calculated that it was about 9 am in London. A flight attendant came by, and he ordered a ginger ale and chowed down nervously on a bag of pretzels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The descent was bumpy, and it was gloomy in London as the plane touched down onto the damp tarmac. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He texted George an excited text and got a confirmation that George was in an Uber on the way to Heathrow Airport. Dream laughed to himself. He had offered to take an uber by himself to George’s apartment, but the older man had insisted on picking him up, even though he couldn’t drive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After slight confusion on where he was supposed to go, and a long screening in customs, he finally made his way to the baggage claim. Unfortunately, there was a delay in the release of the luggage from his flight, so he sat on a nearby bench, leaning against the wall to wait. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Will things be different in real life? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their argument floated back into his memory, and he felt that same embarrassment at how jealous he had gotten over George’s date, and the guilt about calling George “fruity” returned in full force. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pang of strange guilt about his dreams crept into his mind as well, as if dreaming about the Brit was crossing some unspoken boundary of their friendship. It had been so weirdly intimate, it felt like he was invading his friend’s privacy just by thinking about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sat for a while, staring absentmindedly at nothing and sinking deep into his own thoughts, before a shadow suddenly fell across his face, and a hesitant voice spoke from right beside him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George stood in the busy Heathrow Airport, searching through the crowds of people to find Dream. He had said that he was at the baggage claim, waiting for his delayed suitcase. George almost gave up hope and pulled out his phone to call his Floridian friend, when a large blonde man caught the corner of his eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sitting on a bench, staring into the crowds was a dirty-blonde man, wearing a black sweatshirt and grey sweatpants. His hair was slightly messy, and he looked bored, almost upset. George couldn’t help but crack a large smile at the sight of his best friend. They had facetimed enough for him to recognize Dream anywhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart picked up the pace, thumping in his chest at a rapid pace. He took a deep breath in and made his way over to his friend, who was oblivious to his presence so far. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream?” He said it quieter than he had intended. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why am I so nervous? It’s just Dream, he thought. The blonde quickly snapped out of whatever trance he had been in, snapping his eyes up to George.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes were even more beautiful in person. George knew that they were green, but to him, they were a honey-dipped golden, the color of the sun setting over the ocean. A flash of confusion crossed the blonde’s face but melted instantly into recognition and a brilliant warmth washed over the brunette as he looked down at Dream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream jumped up quickly from the bench and pulled the Brit into a tight hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s breath hitched, and he tensed up before allowing himself to return the hug. After a few moments, Dream broke away, and George cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You</span>
  <em>
    <span> are </span>
  </em>
  <span>touchy-feely,” he tittered. Dream laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I’m just--I’m just so excited! I’m here, George! In</span>
  <em>
    <span> real life</span>
  </em>
  <span>! We’ve been waiting for this for what, six years?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George relaxed into the familiarity of the younger man’s enthusiasm. He had been nervous for nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m excited too, Dream. Where’s your luggage?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Clay, dude,” Dream responded, “and it hasn’t been loaded off the plane yet. God, the plane ride was so awful. The man sitting next to me…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George let Dream ramble, thinking instead about how comfortable he would be using his name in real life. Typically, he only used his actual name when they were having a serious conversation, or he was upset, and it felt unnatural to suddenly use it all the time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“...and it was so bumpy that I felt like the entire</span>
  <em>
    <span>--oh!</span>
  </em>
  <span> The luggage is finally being unloaded. I’m gonna go grab my--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna keep calling you Dream, if that’s alright with you,” George interrupted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream cocked an eyebrow momentarily but conceded to George’s request before going to quickly grab his bag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you tired?” George questioned as they made their way out of the crowd and onto the side of the street, where George put in a request for an uber on his phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not really, I’m more hungry than anything.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, I don’t have much at my apartment. There’s a cafe across the street though,” the brunette looked up at Dream, whose face twisted into a weird grimace at the mention of the word “cafe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did that offend him? Are cafes a bad thing in America…</span>
  </em>
  <span> George questioned himself briefly, trying to remember the one time he had been to the states. As fast as he grimaced, Dream seemed to pull his face back into his bubbly smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds great! I haven’t exchanged my money yet, though,” he said, a slight concern washing over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shut up, I’ll pay.” George shook his head, looking over the cars to see if he could spot the Uber he had ordered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, like a date. How kind of you,” Dream teased. George blushed and shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This was a mistake. You should have stayed in America,” he retorted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream let out a small, wheezing laugh, and George couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He wished it was a date. He really did. </span>
</p><p>Their hands brushed together as they crawled into the backseat of the small silver car that picked them up. George felt his skin grow hot as it happened, and he chastised himself in his head for the yearning feeling that seeped into his mind. </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What have I gotten myself into? </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this took a long time to update, my bad! </p><p>Also mmmmm me gusta</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Socks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hot chocolate and a good ol' English downpour.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dream tried to cover his grimace at the word “cafe”. He knew George would have no knowledge of his dream, but he couldn’t help but feel paranoid at the idea that he had been found out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not that there’s anything for George to find, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed it off, and by the time they arrived at the small, warm cafe, the rain was pouring down in a thick sheet of water. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’m dressed appropriately for the weather,” Dream chuckled as they entered. His hoodie and sweatpants were doing nothing to combat the effects of English weather. George on the other hand was wearing a large coat, the hood trimmed with fur, and he had even worn black gloves to keep his hands warm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’ve got good hot chocolate or coffee to warm your hands up,” George responded, noticing Dream’s eyes on his gloves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do they have french toast?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, but don’t you want to try a proper British breakfast? You know, beans on toast ‘n all that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, sure,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m kidding,” George laughed. “It sucks.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both giggled, and Dream knew they were a little</span>
  <em>
    <span> too </span>
  </em>
  <span>excited. The happiness that he felt finally meeting up with George in person was overwhelming, and he was bursting from the seams. After a few minutes of talking, George excused himself to the restroom, leaving his phone on the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It lit up with a notification, and Dream was too nosy not to look at the screen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Rachel</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re so cute tho, who could resist?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>------------</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just like that, the giddy happiness fled from Dream’s body, and frustration grew in its place. He sighed, remembering the reason that he had flown out to London in the first place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George returned to the table at the same time the waitress arrived to set down their food, leading to an awkward interaction between them. When George noticed the notification on his phone screen, he quickly hid it in his coat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were quiet for a moment, both chewing on the first few bites of their food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream spoke first. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“George, I...I never actually apologized for our argument.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Dream. I know you didn’t mean it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream could see George’s body grow tense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why I got jealous, it’s just...” he paused. George sipped his hot chocolate, and Dream felt his words falter as he stared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something about the man was just undeniably </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He didn’t know if it was the aftershock of his dream, the way that he was holding his cup of hot chocolate so delicately, the excitement of meeting him for the first time, or what, but Dream couldn’t finish his sentence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just…?” George set down the chocolate and leaned towards Dream with his eyebrow raised slightly and a small smirk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just, uhm,” Dream turned his head to look out the window onto the gloomy street and felt a prickling heat burning his cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just, I don’t want to lose you, George. And it's... it's stupid I know, but I got worried that a girlfriend would take you away from all this. From youtube. From the Dream Team. From </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned his head back around with a grimace and made eye contact with the Brit. He didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t the round, glistening eyes and furrowed forehead that met his gaze. The blonde couldn’t discern if the expression on George’s face was sadness, empathy, or disgust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. That made me sound all, I don’t know. I meant like, you know, I just--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Dream.” George placed his hand over the younger man’s on the table, and regained composure of his face, returning to the neutral smile that he usually wore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An electric shock made its way through Dream’s body at the gentle touch. He pulled his hand away quickly, and they returned to their meals, trying to laugh off the awkward air between them. George was sincere in his words, but the Floridian wished sometimes that he would speak more about what was on his mind. He wanted to know what that expression had meant, what George was thinking, what George was <em>feeling.</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there was tension, Dream knew it. Dream had </span>
  <em>
    <span>caused </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, and he regretted bringing the conversation back up in the first place. He didn’t even know what had provoked him to make such a confession to George, because he certainly hadn’t admitted to himself that he was scared of losing the older man before he said it out loud. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as it had caught George off-guard, it had caught Dream off-guard as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George turned the screen of his phone away slightly as they walked, worried that Dream would see his texts with Rachel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Rachel</b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he somehow did like men, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>that doesn’t mean he would feel that</span>
</p><p>
  <span> way about me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------sent: 11:01am</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re so cute tho, who could resist?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------read 11:03 am</span>
</p><p><span>He said he was scared </span>of losing me at breakfast.</p><p>
  <span>--------</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And it didn’t sound like a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------sent: 11:32am</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>you never know, maybe he</span>
</p><p>
  <span> does feel that way about you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------read 11:32 am</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. He couldn’t let himself get his hopes up. He hadn’t even come out to his online friends yet. He shook his head and put his phone back in his pocket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay?” Dream looked concerned. His dirty blonde hair was now completely soaked from the rain, and he was shivering as they approached the door to George’s apartment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m fine. You look like a drowned rat, though,” he said, laughing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, I didn’t realize it would be storming all day.” Dream defended himself as they entered the building. The apartment was cute, if not a little bland. They entered into a small living room, where there was a leather couch and a tv. Behind it, there was a kitchen with sky blue walls and a table with four chairs. Stairs on the opposite wall next to the TV led upstairs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My bedroom and bathroom are upstairs. It’s not the most luxurious flat in London, but it gets the job done.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like it. It suits you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George smiled to himself, grabbing the suitcase that Dream had forgotten to wheel inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, ha, sorry, I got distracted. Can I uh, take a shower?” Dream turned back around and grabbed his suitcase from George, and their hands brushed together for a second time that day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, the towels are in the cabinet under the sink.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream made his way upstairs, bringing his suitcase with him. George heard the shower turn on as he gathered some blankets and pillows to set up a makeshift bed for the blonde man. It was early to be doing so, but he assumed that they would stream for their fans for the next few hours anyway, so the couch would go unused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once that was finished, he made his way upstairs and turned on his computer. Eventually, the water in the bathroom turned off, and a minute later, Dream entered the room with a sheepish grin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“George…?” He looked embarrassed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhm, I know it's like, a weird question, but I uh, I apparently didn’t pack any socks, and the ones I was wearing are soaked. Would it be okay if I borrowed a pair until we can go buy me some?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s nervousness vanished, and he burst out laughing. Dream did the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You absolute idiot. Sure you can, they’re in the top drawer.” He turned back around to the computer screen, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream opened his closet and began to rummage through the top drawer of George’s dresser. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George realized his mistake too late. His veins filled with ice and he whipped around, standing up instantly from his chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I can lo--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s this, George?” Dream asked, holding up a strip of pictures that had been printed from a photobooth. The top picture was George and a dirty blonde man smiling, the second was him looking away with a feigned annoyance as the man kissed his cheek, and the final picture was him and the blonde man mid-kiss, his arms around the other man’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s mind blanked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck fuck fuck. Shit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew this would happen. He knew that he should have just thrown the picture away, but he had been dramatic and stupid and kept it in the bottom of his sock-drawer for safekeeping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What were the odds that Dream would be going through his dresser? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhm, that’s-that’s my uh, ex-boyfriend,” he stuttered, voice shaking. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, and his eyes filled to the brim with tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>“George, are you...are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>gay</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>uh oh &gt;.&lt;</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Blushing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Can we play some fuckin' Minecraft, then?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>George stared silently for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“and...and what if I was? H-Hypothetically?” He sputtered, backing away until he hit the wall behind him, leaning on it for support. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream broke the eye contact, and looked down at the picture, scanning it with his eyes for a few moments more. He didn’t know what to say or think or feel. If he had known George was actually homosexual, he would have...he would have….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>Well, what would I have done differently?</em> He asked himself. He placed the picture strip back into the sock drawer and closed it, hearing George sniffle where he stood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“George, I,” he kept his voice as tender as he could, “hypothetically, if you were gay, I wouldn’t care. At all. Okay?” He tried to find the right words to say, but his mind was swirling with the newly found information. The air in the room grew stiff and awkward, and George refused to meet his eyes. He stepped towards the shorter man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s fine, dude. You don’t have to be like, ashamed of it or anything, I was just surprised.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaned down as he approached, trying to find the brunette’s eyes, but he maintained a steady gaze on the floor as he spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Clay.” His voice was a pitiful whisper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry for what? There’s noth-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For<em> lying</em>,” he said, finally lifting his head to meet the blonde’s tender stare.  His brows were drawn close, and his eyes drooped in an apologetic way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I...I don’t know why I never told you or Nick, anyone else, I didn’t think you would care, it’s just...private I guess.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lifted his arm and wiped away a tear with a small chuckle, devoid of any real humor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I get it. I do. I’m not mad at all, George,” Dream said. He held out his arms with a patient smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hug me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s eyes ran towards the floor again, and he hesitated before stepping away from the wall and into Dream’s warm arms. The blonde wrapped himself tightly around his friend, trying to reassure him that he didn’t care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because he didn’t care that George was gay. It had no effect on him or their relationship. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>Platonic relationship</em>, Dream reminded himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George nuzzled his head into the Floridian’s chest, letting out only one quiet sob, before taking a deep inhale. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream looked down at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“<em>Uugghhhhhhhhhh</em>,” the brit suddenly exhaled a loud, exaggerated groan, catching Dream entirely off guard. A relieved laugh bubbled its way up from his chest, and he pulled away from George, whose expression had changed to one of playful embarrassment. He gave a hyperbolic blink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s really okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It really is, George.” Dream pat the top of the brunette’s head in an attempt to lighten the mood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we play some fuckin’ Minecraft then?” He sassed. Dream wheezed in agreement and the tension in the room dissipated instantaneously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was surprisingly easy to slip back into their comfortable banter. George set up his stream and started up the game, playing as usual before making the announcement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, you guys, I do have a surprise for you,” he giggled. “Someone special is here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chat blew up instantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>\[] tubboxsmile: wilbur?? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>\[]caitnottaken: IS IT DOG????? CAT???</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream reached his hand into the frame and waved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Surprise!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then the chat really lost it. Just from the hand coming into frame, the livestream gained 60,000 viewers nearly instantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, no face reveal yet, but yes! I am here. In England. With Georgie.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He is a <em>horrible</em> house guest. Already pissed in my bed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stream went well, just them bantering back and forth and with chat as Dream tried to coach George through a speedrun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As per usual, the brunette didn’t manage to beat the game and gave up after a few hours. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They announced that they would be playing Jackbox with Karl, Sapnap, and Quackity the next day, and sent the viewers off to Awesamdude. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George leaned back in his chair and exhaled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good stream, you hungry?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what’s for dinner?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could order us pizza? There’s a delicious curry pizza place just a few streets down.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds great,” Dream said, but his eyes weren’t focused on George, and his response seemed automatic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George wanted to know what was going on in his handsome friend’s head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” He was still replying without paying attention. George knew him well enough to recognize that his mind was far, far away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s on your mind?” He twirled his chair towards where the blonde sat and leaned in to grab his attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream finally seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, and his benevolent eyes, a stunningly rich amber color to George, met his gaze. He blinked a few times, and his cheeks brightened to a soft pink before responding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your ex-boyfriend looks an awful lot like me, doesn’t he?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s heart nearly burst from his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is why he couldn’t know, damnit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure how that’s topical,” he deflected, but the blood rushed to his ears and cheeks, and he matched the bright pink that was spread across his friend’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Dream laughed, “I didn’t mean to, you know, put you on the spot. I do have one other question though.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What,” he snapped lightheartedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, that date with your friend, wasn’t a real date?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are such an<em> idiot</em>, Dream.” George shook his head, but couldn’t stop the large smile from breaking out on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, obviously it wasn’t.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Okay. So I was jealous for nothing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jealous?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s heartbeat raced again. He knew that it was dangerous to play this game, especially now, but he couldn’t help himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what I mean,” The blonde looked away, and spun his chair around, legs bouncing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you mean, Dream. Unless,” he couldn’t stop his cheeky self from pressing the issue,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unless<em> you’re</em> gay too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream seemed to tense momentarily, and George thought maybe he had gone too far. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only a moment passed, but the chair started to spin again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Oh come on now, George. Now you’re being the idiot. Can you just order us some pizza? I’m hungry,” he snickered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, of course.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Pizza and Rum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You don’t have to drink it, Dream. I won’t care. I don’t have to drink either,” he made eye contact with the other man, giving an encouraging grin. </p><p>Dream nodded, and knitted his brows. </p><p>“No, I want too, thanks for making them.” He closed his mouth around the straw and took a large gulp, making a disgusted face as he did. </p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Flashbacks of George leaning in to kiss him in the dream replayed in his head. The strange parallel between his unconscious mind and reality made his heart race. George was joking, <em>of course he’s joking</em>, but Dream still felt his adrenaline spike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How</span>
  <em>
    <span> had </span>
  </em>
  <span>he meant it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was jealous of the fact that he wasn’t able to spend time with him that morning, not because he had thought it was a date. It was completely fine if George dated other people. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or, erm, men,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to bring up the fact that the brit’s ex-boyfriend had a striking resemblance to Dream, with the shaggy blonde hair and athletic build, but he had only been teasing him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George seemed to be flustered by such a notion, but it must have just embarrassment left over from coming out in the morning. The blonde wondered if George would ever publicly come out to their fans, and what it would be like if he had to come out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not that I have to come out for anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he reminded himself. He probably wouldn’t announce it in some big way, most likely he would just post a photo of him holding George’s hand and confirm that they were dating. The fans would go ballis--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. What was that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dream felt his face suddenly flush and he audibly scoffed. An uncomfortable feeling crept in as he realized where his thoughts had gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong. Dream?” George was now lying on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He placed it down so he could look at the younger man, who was still spinning in the chair, a grimace on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uhm, nothing. I just got lost in thought again, sorry,” he mumbled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ve noticed. You’ve been lost in thought ever since we ended the stream, dumbarse.” George smiled, clearly amused by the situation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! The pizza is almost here, let’s go downstairs!” The brunette jumped off his bed, looking at his phone that Dream presumed was tracking their order. Dream tried to shake the discomfort from his thoughts and followed George down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They grabbed the pizzas from the delivery driver and sat down on the small couch in front of the TV. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever seen Game of Thrones?” George asked, opening Hulu. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, is it good?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s one of the best shows I’ve ever seen,” George replied. Since Dream was so behind on the plot, they decided to just continue from where George had left off, a few seasons into the show. He was right, it was a good show, and as they dug into the food, George asked him another question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you still not drink?” His tone was gentle, and Dream realized he never fully explained the situation to his older friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, kind of, I mean, the reason I don’t is that my sister used to drink a lot in high school and got in trouble for it, so I never really did,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s eyebrows pulled sweetly into a sympathetic look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it was never anything bad, I just figured it’s better to not, does that make sense? Since turning twenty-one though, I’ve had drinks with my parents a few times though.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I pulled out a bottle of rum, would you want any?” Dream could tell that it was an innocent offer, no hint of condescension or judgment no matter which way he answered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To hell with it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dream thought, he was in England, with his best friend, and it had been a long day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” he smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go easy on you,” George laughed, making his way to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t rum like, strong stuff?” He heard his blonde friend’s voice nervously ask from behind him as he pulled down the large, dark bottle and a few cans of coke from the fridge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure it is, but I’m English, remember?” He poured two drinks and headed back over to the couch. His hand brushed against Dream’s as he handed him the glass, and the Floridian hesitated to take a sip. George felt slightly bad, he had no intention of pressuring his friend into anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to drink it, Dream. I won’t care. I don’t have to drink either,” he made eye contact with the other man, giving an encouraging grin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream nodded and knitted his brows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I want too, thanks for making them.” He closed his mouth around the straw and took a large gulp, making a disgusted face as he did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallowed the large gulp, coughed slightly, and then looked back at George. George laughed loudly at Dream’s reaction, and Dream joined in as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s...</span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he chuckled before taking another sip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now imagine it without the coke. And you’re eighteen, and you’re a bit of a small guy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> is terrible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both laughed again, and George felt a wonderful feeling of comfort wash over him like a blanket. His best friend was sitting in his apartment, laughing alongside him and watching his favorite show. In a way, he was absolutely delighted that Dream had stumbled upon that photo of him and his ex. Although he did make a mental note to throw it away as soon as his friend went back to America. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They finished their pizzas, their drinks, and then a few more drinks as well. They binged on the Game of Thrones episodes, and George could feel his throat and face turn fuzzy and warm from the rum, and knew that it was time to stop. I</span>
  <em>
    <span>f this really is Dream’s first time drinking liquor, someone has to keep a head screwed on,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. He looked over at Dream, whose face he could tell was also pink from intoxication, and his eyelids were drooping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream,” he called his name softly as a dragon roared through the speakers. it was dark outside now, and they hadn’t turned on any light in the room, meaning that the blonde’s face was illuminated only by the flashing of the tv. He turned his head lazily to meet George’s gaze, and he could tell that the younger man was no longer sober. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel...buzzed,” he giggled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we stop for the night then? I think you’ve already had three, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream giggled again and smirked. “I made myself this one,” he lifted the half-empty glass, “while you were on the--in the bathroom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream! You’ve definitely had enough then.” George stood from his spot on the couch and reached for the blonde’s glass, but he pulled it away from him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t f...nish it,” he slurred. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, he’s drunker than I thought,</span>
  </em>
  <span> George worried in his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on then, you’re clearly drunk Dream, I don’t want you blacking out on your first night here,” he demanded, leaning forward to grab the glass from where Dream had pulled away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you c’mere instead…” Dream mumbled, and with his free hand he wrapped around George’s legs and pulled him down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a shock, and George jumped slightly, unaware of what the blonde was even doing before he was suddenly on top of him. He tried to stop himself from falling completely onto Dream, and in the process ended up straddling the blonde’s lap. The glass in Dream’s hand swung slightly, and some of the drink splashed onto the back of the couch. George’s warm cheeks burned, and he gasped. The grip on his hip was surprisingly firm, and he made sure not to drop the empty glass in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream blinked his glossy eyes, making eye contact with George that he felt like it was burning right into his soul. For a moment, he considered staying there on his friend’s lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to speak, but Dream interrupted him before he could start.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine...ll put down,” he mumbled, leaning over George’s body to place the glass on the coffee table. With that hand now free, he wrapped it around George’s waist as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Dream, I gotta go put these away.” He said, placing his empty glass next to them on the couch and moving to get Dream’s hands off of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm..later,” he slurred again, pulling the brit closer to him and adjusting his grip so that his hands slipped underneath George’s sweatshirt. George conceded slightly and rested his arms on Dream’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream…?” He whispered. The alcohol in his veins and his friend’s hold on his skin made him feel electric, the warmth flooding into his chest and sending a shiver through his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream stared at him a few moments more before opening his mouth again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so...hands’m…” He confessed. George shivered again and started to panic in his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s straight. He’s straight. He’s straight. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream leaned close to George’s fade, close enough that he could feel the younger man’s hot, inebriated breath on his skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re--you’re drunk, Clay,” he whispered anxiously. His head started to spin, but he had been intoxicated enough times in his life to know it wasn’t the alcohol. The tv roared again behind them and cast a red glow across them as they sat intertwined on the couch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is Clay. Your best friend. Your </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>straight</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> best friend. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then sober me up,” Dream challenged. Their lips brushed past one another, and as Dream finished his sentence, he pressed his lips against George’s mouth in a tentative kiss. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Hangovers Aren't Fun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Very short chapter. </p><p> </p><p>pain q.q</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no, no...not like this,” George had pulled away almost immediately, but Dream had felt him hesitate, he felt the hidden desperation that he knew was there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream replayed the moment in his mind, the room spinning wildly and his veins tingling with an elated toxicity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> His British friend returned with a blanket, and a glass of water, mumbling a quiet </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“just yell if you need anything,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>before sheepishly making his way up the stairs. He looked embarrassed, and upset. Dream knew that he was the one who should be ashamed, but he couldn’t get himself to feel it. The rum had made him reckless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did I kiss him? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question swirled into his head out of nowhere, shattering the beautiful feeling in his chest. He sat up on the couch, thrown into a panic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why the fuck did I just kiss George?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew the answer, it was lurking in the back of his brain. It had made its residence in the Floridian’s head permanent after he had dreamed about the cafe, building its home in the deepest, most shameful corner of Dream’s consciousness. He knew that one day he would have to knock on its door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he wasn’t ready. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was just curiosity,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought,</span>
  <em>
    <span> and alcohol. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, alcohol. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His stomach turned, and laid back down on the couch. Exhaustion overtook his limbs and his senses, and he let his brain turn to static, growing fuzzy as he faded into a boozy slumber.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ouch.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was the first thought to enter Dream’s pounding head when he finally awoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” he groaned, sitting up lazily and reaching for the glass on the coffee table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Need a painkiller?” An amused voice rang out from the kitchen, and Dream turned to see George opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle of advil. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That--” he cleared his throat, “would be great actually.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde put his head in his hands. The light peering in through the window was entirely too bright, and Dream was struggling to remember the events of the night before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George handed him a pill, and he washed it down with the stale water. His stomach grumbled loudly despite the nauseous feeling in his throat, and George chuckled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make some scrambled eggs for breakfast, too,” he said,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That would also be-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But Dream,” he interrupted. His face turned from an amused smile to a fearful look, and his lower lip trembled slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Dream answered, concerned at the sudden change in George’s demeanor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did you...do you remember last night?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Confusion replaced concern as Dream tried to recall the night’s events.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Last night? We got drunk, and then... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A glass of rum. Pulling George onto his lap. It feeling</span>
  <em>
    <span> so </span>
  </em>
  <span>goddamn good. He remembered slipping his hand underneath George’s sweatshirt, gripping his waist firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembered thinking how gorgeous and handsome and amazing George had looked, cheeks flushed from the rum and the red glow of the TV surrounding him like a halo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, he remembered kissing George, nervously and </span>
  <em>
    <span>needily</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wanting to melt into the older man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes. It was the only way to escape the anxious gaze that his best friend was giving him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,</span>
  <em>
    <span> fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George could feel his heartbeat in his ears and he thought about running out the door and never coming back to his apartment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did I ask that why did I ask that why did I ask that why did --</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaned back against the wall to steady himself. He shouldn’t have brought it up. He wanted to scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck,” Dream exclaimed. His eyes were closed and George was glad. His cheeks were nearly burnt to a crisp, and his skin was crawling, and he hated being this vulnerable in front of people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream opened his eyes again and the brunette could see embarrassment, shame, and fear swimming in the muddy amber color of his irises. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“George, I uhm,” he cleared his throat again, “I’m sorry I did that.” He laughed, but it was an uncomfortable noise, not the warm, sunshiney wheeze or giggle that George loved listening to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. The kiss had kept him tossing and turning in his sheets the entire night long, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. The question was on the tip of his tongue, and he wanted to ask it so badly he felt like his limbs were going to explode. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clay had been fine about </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> being gay,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So what’s the harm in clarification? </span>
  </em>
  <span>George thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you--are you sure you aren’t gay?” He asked, his apprehensive voice nearly a whisper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He managed to maintain eye contact with the younger man as the words tumbled out of his mouth, and he saw those same emotions bubble back up to the surface of Dream’s expression again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What he didn’t expect was the wave of disgust that graced the blonde’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>“I’m not <em>fucking </em>gay, <em>George</em>. Just because I look like your ex doesn’t mean I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> him.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me writing this: uh oh! it hurt itself in confusion!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Honey and Mint</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The final chapter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The door slammed shut behind him, but George didn’t care. There was nowhere for Clay to go, so he would still be there when the brunette decided to return,<em> if</em> he decided to return. Part of him wanted to call an Uber, go to his parent’s house and stay there forever, another part of him wanted to go back in the apartment and scream at the top of his lungs. Yet another part of him wanted to go back inside and apologize to Dream. </p><p> </p><p><em> Apologize for what? </em> He scoffed at his own stupid emotions, <em> apologize for being gay? </em></p><p> </p><p>For asking Dream if he was? What right did Dream have to be so angry at him, when <em> he </em> was the one who had kissed George in the first place? </p><p> </p><p>His feet kept moving, and honestly he didn’t care what direction they were going in. He would find his way back easily enough. That was a perk of walking most places in London, you established routes to get around. He wouldn’t get lost. </p><p> </p><p>George sure as hell<em> felt</em> lost, though. It had been an innocent question. Countless hours of flirting sarcastically, deep conversations, coming out to the younger man, and Dream pressing his lips against the Brit’s, but he loses it at a simple question of confirmation? </p><p> </p><p>He ran his hands over his hair and stopped a moment, leaning against the brick wall of a local bank to take control back over his emotions. The sky was grey, <em>naturally</em>, and a light drizzle dampened the already depressing mood of the day. George’s emotions swirled uncomfortably inside of his head, and he fought the urge to cry in public. </p><p> </p><p>It made no fucking sense. None at all.<em> Dream </em>made no sense at all. He was intoxicating. He was warm. And bright. And safe. The tall, blonde man was everything that George imagined Florida would be. A citrus-scented breeze swishing palm leaves on a golden-washed beach. But he was stubborn, and when he put up a fight he knew exactly how to pack a punch with his words. </p><p> </p><p>Everyone has flaws, Dream wasn’t without them. <em> And neither am I </em> , George thought, <em> but it’s different when it's about this. </em> It was ruined, their honey-coated world crumbling into a ruined friendship and a regret-filled plane to England. </p><p> </p><p>He felt dizzy. <em>I was so stupid. So stupid. </em></p><p> </p><p>It was stupid to allow yourself to fall for someone you couldn’t have. Even stupider when it’s your best friend. George found a bench and sat down, waiting until the world stopped spinning around and his breathing returned to normal. </p><p> </p><p>He thought about the dream he had, of meeting his handsome best friend. The vlog dream. It was ridiculous that he had even dreamed of the blonde kissing him, of him returning the yearning feeling that George felt in his chest whenever he thought about him.  </p><p> </p><p>But was it? </p><p> </p><p>A child ran by, jumping in a small puddle and splashing dirty water directly onto George’s shoes. He sighed. Normally, he’d be much more careful with this pair of shoes, but they were next to the door and he needed to escape the apartment quickly. </p><p> </p><p><em> What the fuck am I gonna do now, </em> he lamented in his head. The conflicting ideas bounced around his head almost rhythmically, and eventually he let his hands take over, pulling out his phone without confirmation from his brain. </p><p> </p><p>He called Sapnap. </p><p> </p><p>“George..?” It’s two in the morning, why the<em> hell</em> are you calling me?” A tired and irritated voice grumbled through the speaker of his phone. </p><p> </p><p>“Nick, I just. I don’t know what to do.” His voice broke. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait, what the hell? What’s wrong? Where’s Dream?” Concern flooded into the Texan’s voice, and George spilled. </p><p> </p><p>He spilled everything, about himself, about his feelings for Dream, about the trip, everything. He even told him about the rum, and the kiss, and Dream’s anger. </p><p> </p><p>“George,” Sapnap said carefully once the older man had finished his rambling, “I think ...I think you know something about Clay that he doesn’t know about himself.” </p><p> </p><p>~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>Dream was frozen on the couch, unable to move even if he wanted to. He was choking back a sob, replaying the conversation in his head again and again. </p><p> </p><p><em>Bullshit, it wasn’t even a conversation,</em> he thought. He felt so guilty that he thought an implosion would burst from his chest and suck him into his own void at any moment now. </p><p> </p><p>Why the fuck did he say those things? </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m not fucking gay, George. Just because I look like your ex doesn’t mean I am him.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The anger had washed over him instantly, and powerfully. He wasn’t a fucking homosexual. It wasn’t possible.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You’re delusional if you think that anything I’ve ever said to you was more than a joke,”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> George averted his eyes, staring at the floor, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “and if I kissed your or whatever last night, that was just a stupid joke too. I don’t give a fuck what you’re into, but I’m certainly not going to have sex with something that has a dick attached to it--or, or, whatever.” He was yelling, and he didn’t even know why. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> George mumbled something under his breath. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “What?” Dream sneered, squinting his eyes at him.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The small man raised his head and looked into Dream’s eyes. Tears were pooling in his dark brown eyes, threatening to spill over, and his lip was trembling.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I said its not about sex, Clay,” he spat. A boulder crushed Dream’s chest, and the wind left his lungs as he saw the expression on George’s face. His remorse was immediate, overwhelming, astronomical. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dream’s own eyes filled with tears, and his breath hitched as George threw his shoes on to leave the apartment.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Wait, George, wait, I actually, wait,” he sputtered pathetically. George opened the door, and didn’t even bother to look behind him as he left.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Just admit you’re homophobic, Dream.” </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He allowed himself to sob. He wanted to take it all back. He shouldn’t have opened his mouth. </p><p> </p><p><em> No, </em> he thought <em> , I should have told the truth.  </em></p><p> </p><p>It was too late, he had already destroyed their friendship. There was no way to fix this. George would build his walls up and leave Dream on the outside, scrambling to find a way to break back inside. Plane tickets couldn’t fix it this time. </p><p> </p><p>He thought about the dream he had, sitting in the cafe with the older man, sipping hot cocoa and admiring the London rain, admiring George, wanting to kiss him gently. He thought about how anxious he had been when the dream paralleled real life, and George really<em> did </em>take him to a cafe.</p><p> </p><p>The jealousy he felt when George went out to lunch with his friend, the dare-he-say, <em> excitement </em>he felt when he noticed that the brunette’s ex-boyfriend bore a resemblance to him. </p><p> </p><p>Jealousy. Excitement. Years of flirtatious jokes, it all led up to him kissing George on the lips, in a desperate act of inebriated surrender, looking for any sign that George felt the same way he did. </p><p> </p><p>It all crashed down on him at once, everything making sense in an instant. George made sense. He was sassy, sarcastic and caring beyond belief. His smile was like a breath of minty air, refreshing, pleasant, and stinging in the best possible way. He was just so intriguing, open yet mysterious, and above all else, <em> cool.   </em></p><p> </p><p>And Dream was in love with him, goddamnit. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t knock on the door of his subconscious secret, he kicked it off of its frame, and charged in headfirst to the feeling. </p><p> </p><p>No, he wasn’t gay, he still loved women, but if loving George meant he loved men too, he could work with that. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It can be both </em>
</p><p>.</p><p>He took the feeling by the hand and pulled it out into the open, out of its shameful corner and into the light. The boulder rolled off of his chest, but only momentarily before crushing him again. There was still a reason that they were in this situation, still a reason that George had rushed out the door. </p><p> </p><p>And it was all his fault.</p><p> </p><p>So he cried, and didn’t try to stop himself from doing so. He had no qualms about being vulnerable, about crying when he needed to cry. He and George were opposites in that way. George did everything in his power to maintain his self-preservation, and Dream let it all flow out, not bothering to make any attempt to stop it. </p><p> </p><p>When the door opened quietly, and with hesitation, he sat up immediately, wiping his leaking eyes. George stood in the doorway, a stern and pained look on his face. </p><p> </p><p>“I told Nick everything. All of it.” He said calmly. He closed the door, but remained standing against it, biting his lip. </p><p> </p><p>Dream stared at his handsome friend.  The pain in his eyes was obvious, and it drove a stake through his heart. He stood up from the couch and made his way over to where George was standing, rubbing his arm to comfort himself. </p><p>He looked down at the brunette, and let a few more tears fall from his face before speaking. </p><p> </p><p>“I...am so, so, <em> so </em> fucking sorry George,” he choked out. George nodded, and spoke softly. </p><p> </p><p>“I know you are, Dream.” </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t mean it, any of it, I just got so-so scared.” </p><p> </p><p>“I know you didn’t mean it. It’s okay.” </p><p> </p><p>George reached up with a tender hand, and wiped away the salty drops of water that were running across Dream’s cheeks. It seemed uncharacteristic for him to make such an intimate and affectionate gesture, but hell, Dream had only known George in <em> real </em> life for a few days, so maybe he was more affectionate than he let on. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not okay though, I said unforgivable things, I...I,” he squeezed his eyes shut miserably, “I <em> hurt you </em>, George. Again. Worse than last time.” </p><p> </p><p>There was a moment of silence again, before George whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“Why were you so scared, Clay?” </p><p> </p><p>“Because I am completely and utterly in love with you, George.” </p><p> </p><p>This time, it was George who nestled a hand into Dream’s shaggy blonde hair pulling him down and lifting his heels slightly off the ground to reach him. He pressed his lips tentatively against the younger man’s. </p><p> </p><p>Dream kissed him back. George pulled away after a moment,</p><p> </p><p>“I forgive you, you stupid idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>He kissed Dream again, and wrapped his arm’s around the blonde’s broad shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>“And I am completely and utterly in love with you, too, Clay.” </p><p> </p><p>It felt like a dream. </p><p> </p><p>No, it felt better than a dream. He was so glad it wasn’t a dream, dreams would never be able to compare to the feeling of relief, excitement, honey, and mint that he was feeling now. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure it was real, but instead he wrapped his arms around his best friend and pulled him close, promising to never hurt him again. </p><p><br/><em> The plane tickets had been a really good choice </em> , Dream thought to himself, <em> a really good fucking choice. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I promised a happy ending, so here it is:) I'm actually really proud of how this turned out! I feel like my writing improved as the story progressed, and I wanted to say thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! I probably won't write many long fics like this, I prefer one-shots, but this was my long-term project, and I am so glad it's finally finished.</p><p>Feel free to leave feedback! </p><p>P.S. SURPRISE! I wrote a fluffy ass epilogue (chapter 11)<br/>it's pretty short, but I think it wraps everything up nicely</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been a tearful day when Dream finally had to return to Florida, leaving George behind in London. They weren’t too upset by it, because it was their normal. Long-distance was nothing foreign to either of them, with most of their relationships being online anyway. They took advantage of what time together they did have, and decided to spend the rest of the trip </span>
  <em>
    <span>away </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the internet and not streaming at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They went to the nearest beach, and it disgusted Dream to find that British beaches were actually rocky and cold. George laughed at his reaction, citing that it was just another excuse for him to come to Florida and see a “real” beach (as Dream put it). They watched TV together, curled up on the couch, George tucked protectively in his boyfriend’s arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Boyfriend. The word sent a shiver down George’s spine. It was hard for him to comprehend that it was real, but it was even more difficult for Dream to comprehend. Growing up, he would have never imagined himself dating and potentially marrying a short, slender British man, but he was head-over-heels in love, and the fact that it was his best friend was an added bonus. When George pulled him into the bedroom, his initial anxiety vanished quickly, and with George there to guide him, he fell in love with new sensations and discovered more about himself than he ever knew was there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They told Sapnap the same day that they had confessed to one another, and they laughed loudly when his reaction was</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank fucking god, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you two.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Telling the fans was a different story. They both decided that now was not the right time to tell the public eye about their relationship, and instead, they would let their fans speculate and joke about dreamnotfound for a while longer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was flirty, humorous, loving, and everything it had been before, just</span>
  <em>
    <span> better</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They told each other about their dreams and giggled at the notion that there was a time when they both wished that they could keep dreaming because real life was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much better.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much again for reading, I hope you enjoyed! :D</p><p>And Happy New Year!!!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please ignore the fact that my name is sharkcoochie bye</p></blockquote></div></div>
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